122mm
by streetlightz
Summary: It's like Your Lie in April, but the guys are artillerymen and the girls are field guns, and it's World War One. I question where the inspiration for this story came from.


A short little adaptation of Your Lie in April to the theme of WWI; the love between a soldier and his weapon.

On March 18, 1917, Kousei and Watari were, once again, transferred to the front lines, in preparation for an all-out offensive. They were the best of friends, which everyone who knew them was aware of. It was an odd pairing though, as Watari was an artillery officer in charge of ten heavy field guns, while Kousei was simply the spotter for a single small infantry field gun.

The discrepancy between the ranks, however, could not break apart the friendship that the two men had. The two were having a final chat over tea and biscuits before being sent to their positions.

"Wow, I've been here for three years and I'm still only in charge of a single gun." Kousei smirked at Watari. "Glad to see you're doing better."

"Your little field howitzer is so user-friendly though, that _Tsubaki_. When we were in a unit together, we used to have _Tsubaki_ with us all the time!"

"Yep, she's a good gun, but sometimes I just wish I had more, y'know?" Kousei looked longingly at the ten guns outside, ready to roll out at Watari's command. As he was talking though, he noticed one more gun than usual, bringing the actual count to eleven. Kousei looked shocked. "Watari? Did you get a new gun recently? Just here to rub it in my face, eh!"

Watari flashed the annoying cool-guy grin. "Yep, my new 122mm field gun! I was assigned her a week ago in preparation for the advance. Her name's _Kaori_! You wanna come see her fire-"

The commanding officer knocked on the door, and let himself in. "You two. We're moving out. Also, from HQ: Kousei nabbed himself a promotion. You're an artillery officer now. Watari, your newest field gun, the _Kaori_ , has been reassigned under Kousei. We move out 0900; lateness does not reflect well, as you know."

"Sir, yes sir!" The two friends saluted as the commanding officer left, without closing the door behind him.

Watari sighed, "That was a short-lived friendship with that gun. Treat her well, Kousei."

* * *

Kousei fell in love. He sat on the bed of the truck, looking back at _Kaori_ being towed behind. The 122mm caliber, the smoothbore barrel, the beautiful stamped lettering: _Royal Arms Factory, South London. Serial No. 0218-14A_. The smell of the fresh paint from his homeland ignited within him a forgotten love for the King. He felt so at-peace that he managed to get to sleep, even on the bumpy, loud ride.

The ever-reliable _Tsubaki_ , Kousei's lifeline for years, strapped to the truck bed right next to him, was almost forgotten amidst his love for his new gun.

* * *

For Kousei's first battle as an officer rather than a spotter, he fielded his guns, one used for years and the other straight out of the factory. He was to fire for one hour at a predetermined location. When 11 o'clock came, he started his fusillade.

 _Kaori_ was beautiful. The loud explosion, the whistling as the 21.8kg shell arched its way past the clouds, the clinking of the shell casings as they were ejected. Kousei could hardly take her eyes off her after the first shot. _Tsubaki_ 's shots faded into almost insignificance: to Kousei, the little infantry howitzer shells sounded like background noise.

In that one hour of firing, _Kaori_ sounded out 150 times.

Kousei would forever remember that day.

That day, the first day since he was drafted, that he felt he was thriving rather than just surviving. His days were no longer colourless, a danger-filled but ultimately monotonous fight to survive 'till next morning. No, his days were filled with the love of _Kaori_ 's sound, and his nights were spent thinking about them. He lived for, and he loved, that gun.

* * *

War does not wait for a soldier's soul-searching, and Kousei was thrown into the mixer again and again. Each and every time, _Kaori_ 's shots would captivate him, motivate him. After each and every battle, Watari would express less and less sadness at losing _Kaori_ to his friend. He was glad that Kousei had finally found his calling, and his own love for the gun paled in comparison to his friend's. He knew how important she was to him.

* * *

It was July 1917, four months after _Kaori_ was reassigned to Kousei. On the second shell of the day, as Kousei swept his hand down in the gesture indicating "Fire!", the gun failed to sound out. Kousei was just about to question his loader, when the loud sound of an explosion and metal being sheared interrupted him. _Kaori_ 's entire breech had blown out. The clanging of metal rivets hitting the ground was the only sound for ten seconds.

Kousei fell to the ground. His crew saw no shrapnel wounds on him, and they would be correct in their analysis. He had not been hit by any debris, and was physically uninjured. The wound was hidden: his heart was beating like a machine gun, threatening to burst just like _Kaori_ 's breech did. Kousei was escorted back to camp for a day of rest

And as technicians and engineers worked on putting _Kaori_ back together again, Watari and Kousei sat down for another meal, for the first time in quite a while.

"Kousei, don't let yourself get so down. We still have obligations, you know. We are still artillery officers. You may have liked _Kaori_ ; we both like the gun, but we have to go on the offensive tomorrow without her." Watari looked concerned for his friend's downcast expression.

Kousei looked up. His meal was barely touched. He nodded firmly and exited without a word. Watari watched him leave with a very concerned expression: he didn't like seeing his friend suffer.

* * *

Kousei had shown outstanding performance with the artillery under his charge, and had been assigned two more guns as a result. The _Nagi_ and the _Emi_ were both fine guns, but in his battles he found himself listening to _Tsubaki_ 's firing more often than ever. He realized how long the gun had stay with him: since the beginning of it all. It was by his side on the truck when he first arrived at the front line, and it had been with him for years after that: a reliable, trustworthy friend.

He wanted to ask the engineers how _Kaori_ 's repairs were going, but he couldn't bring himself to. He filled his command, firing _Tsubaki, Nagi,_ and _Emi_.

One day, an engineer approached Kousei with bad news: _Kaori_ was considered unrepairable and was due to be melted into scrap metal. Kousei grabbed the engineer's shoulders and sobbed.

"Please! Please, just make a patchwork fix! I want to hear her fire one last time!" Kousei nearly screamed. The frightened engineer wriggled out of his grasp. Kousei looked at him retreating, breaking down into tears. He was glad nobody was around to see his despair, as he would certainly have been demoted.

* * *

The appropriate paperwork was filed, and was approved by the higher-ups: they did not like to see the melting-down of war materiel either. One week after Kousei's breakdown, he watched as _Kaori_ was towed behind his truck for the first time in a month. Her brilliant sheen had worn down, replaced by mud; much of the detailing was faded and rusty. Her breech was a different colour, a replacement part salvaged from another broken gun and modified.

Even so, Kousei never felt more magnanimous. He lined up his guns in the field. _Tsubaki_ fired, then _Nagi_ and _Emi_ , and Kousei had a great, heartfelt smile, and tears in his eyes, as he swept down his hand to fire _Kaori_.

A shell was fired, but not from _Kaori_ 's barrel. Counter-battery fire swept through the skies towards their position. Kousei and his crew quickly retreated into foxholes, helmets held close against the falling debris.

Kousei watched as _Nagi_ and _Emi_ were battered by shells. He watched with muted despair as a high-explosive shell scored a direct hit on _Kaori_ , shredding the patchwork machinery into bits. As the Last Post was played and the soldiers retreated, Kousei rolled _Tsubaki_ with him. Not a scratch on her from the enemy fire.

And the next day, as Kousei went to the front with only _Tsubaki_ with him. He simply pondered, as he wheeled the gun by its handles.

 _What a reliable thing she is, Tsubaki_.


End file.
